The Art of Aging Ungracefully

Indulging in Fine Whine

I
t isn’t as though I haven’t seen this coming. A wrinkle here, a gray hair there,
a sag here, there… everywhere else. The urge to go to sleep at 9:00 PM.
The urge to go to the bathroom at 10:45 PM… 12:30 AM… 3:00 AM…Getting
up at 6:00 AM, exhausted from my night’s sleep.
Deep down (way deeper than it used to be) I am that young thin, attractive girl
that I once was and still remain without any visual evidence to the contrary.
Did you know that mirrors are shockingly fragile? What a shame.

                                        

 

Chronic Body Betrayal

Do You Suffer From CBB?


W
hen I was young I was what used to be poetically referred to as willowy. Actually, that was how my mom described me. To the rest of the world I was tall, skinny and not terribly well-endowed.

My mother was an RN and as such wanted to make certain I was aware of the latest methods of early cancer detection. She approached me one day with, If you ever feel anything resembling a lump in your breast, I need you to tell me immediately. I replied, If I ever feel a lump resembling a breast, you will be the first to know. Fast forward to the present. Be careful what you wish for. I finally have the curves I always wanted… I had just never imagined they’d be on my back.

It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when my body began its evil treachery. I know it didn’t happen overnight but the daily shock value is the same as if it had. Every day brings a new horror. I stepped out of the shower the other day and let out a shriek when I caught a reflection of Mom naked. Wait… that cannot be me! That stomach! Hadn’t I already given birth to that last child over twenty years ago? Why in the name of Heaven won’t the mirror fog up when you really need it to?

Memories of the not so distant past. I can remember when…
Pulling on a pair of pantyhose wasn’t an Olympic sport (and yes, some people still wear them).
The only grey was in my eyes.
The only facial hair I had was my eyebrows.
The only brown spots on my body were freckles.
Laugh lines didn’t permanently remain after the laughter had stopped.
My earlobes did not have a crease in them. What the heck is that all about?
My cheeks hadn’t formed an unholy union with gravitational pull.
The word chin was singular.
I could sleep till morning without side trips.
I could laugh or sneeze without dire consequences.
I can remember when I could still remember… almost…
I force myself to find a bright spot every day. Today I woke up wrinkle free! Nothing firms and smooths the skin quite like full body swelling.

Need a Lift?

Ode to the Underwire

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Life Unplucked

The Hairy Truth

F
orget American Express. Don’t leave home without your tweezers.
Ever notice a weird, freakishly long hair growing in a truly inappropriate place? It’s usually a different thickness, texture and even color than any of your other hair just to add to the over-all creepiness of it. Invariably this horrifying discovery occurs when you have been out all day, among tons of people, including your so-called friends! You just know that everyone that saw you was thinking to themselves, how could anyone have a huge gross hair growing under their chin and not do anything about it?

Frankly, my eyesight is not what it used to be, plus, these mutant hairs literally appear overnight. When you hit a certain age all remaining fertility migrates north to the higher elevations. Now all the hair except the hair on the top of your head, grows at an accelerated pace. It is not humanly possible to keep up.

Your only weapons are a highly magnified mirror and surgical quality tweezers.
Warning: Take the necessary precautions. Keep them under lock and key! I have personally been involved in missing tweezer induced rage. Under certain circumstances it can become nearly homicidal in nature. Trust me, you do not want to go there.

Weapons of Mass Destruction


Better Than a Gym Membership

Welcome to the Spandex Jungle

 

I
n the immortal words of Jackie Gleason- ‘When I wake up each morning, I always do my exercises. I tell myself sternly, ‘Ready now. Up – down – up – down.’ After three strenuous minutes of this, I then do the same thing with my other eyelid.’

While I can appreciate Jackie’s lifelong commitment to facial health, I prefer a more full body approach, although one that does not involve putting myself on public display. In that vein, I recently discovered an excellent workout routine. Within seconds after I began, I was sweating heavily and working every muscle in my body. Yes… I was in fact… trying on bathing suits.

These particular ones were designed by the famous brand of squashy wear, Spanx. I picked out a bright blue one piece model, locked myself into, as it turns out, a too small dressing room and began the workout. I began pulling up the suit and was instantly in a life or death struggle with this demon fabric. I used to think wear-resistant meant something else entirely. I heaved and pulled and popped a few capillaries… and got it up to my waist.

The battle of the bulge had began in earnest and I was seriously rethinking this endeavor. With one last desperate heave, I got it all the way up. I don’t know if you’ve seen Willy Wonka, but picture the blueberry girl before she goes to the pressing room. At this point, all I wanted was out of this body tourniquet but now, I could not get it off! I couldn’t move in any direction and the odds of getting out alive were not looking promising. I wondered how many people have had to call 911 from a dressing room. The mental picture of me in my current state on the evening news gave me the superhuman strength to finally rid myself of the detestable bathing suit from Hell! Yes, of course I bought it! It was the only one that fit!

Estrogen Fades

But Hot Flashes Are Forever


I
actually have only recently begun to experience the joys of the hot flash and let me say, it more than lives up to it’s reputation. There is no way to fully appreciate the sensation until you have experienced it but here is how it affects me.

I understand hot flashes can happen anytime, day or night. My own, at least at this point in time, occur only at night. There is no build up,
no warning. I go from zero to rolling-boil in seconds. The heat seems to originate in the core of my body then flow outward encompassing everything in its path. Envision molten lava. I wonder how my internal organs are not irreparably damaged by the unbelievably intense heat. Following an indescribably fabulous full body sear, the inferno eventually settles in my lower back and begins to dissipate from there.

Of course everything must be instantly removed to allow the heat to escape as quickly as possible, sleeping cat… blankets… sheets…bewildered husband… clothing… I don’t know how on earth I would handle this type of desperate situation should it occur in public. I’d be arrested I imagine. Fine with me. Take me to the cooler now. Please!

With all the advanced technology available I don’t understand why no one has come up with a means to harness this phenomenon as an alternative natural energy source. I don’t know the exact amount of BTU’s I personally generate but lets just say that since this began, my heating bill has gone down considerably. Favorite weapons of choice, personal fan and misting bottle. Again, protect these items at all cost.
The life you save may be your own.

Humor is Ageless

Laugh at What You Cannot Change

Meet Mrs. Hughes. She has a hilarious take on this aging thing.

When Food Attacks

The Inedible Outcome


M
y husband has always had a sensitive stomach which has steadily gotten worse as he’s grown older. Nowadays, just about anything
will upset it. For instance the other day I prepared breakfast links for him. He has eaten and enjoyed them without incident, many times in the past. Evidently this time… it was attempted homicide.
He suffered severe intestinal distress and he requested that I never again serve him those “murder sticks.” Murder sticks! I assured him that had I really wanted to kill him I could think of a lot better way than slow death by sausage! But I digress.

My point was, he, is the one with digestive problems. This was never supposed to happen to me. Food never used to be a problem. I could bite anything and it never bit back… until now. Once you have been initiated into the wonderful world of indigestion, there is truly no going back. A little warning might have been in order. Instead, one day I ate a perfectly innocent seeming meal and for the first time in my life… it retaliated. That was my introduction to heartburn which feels like an extended esophageal hot flash gone deadly. Some people have mistaken the intense painful misery of heartburn for a heart attack… Okay… so I won’t be doing that again.

There is one other unfortunate development. Without getting into the personal gory details, there are now many favorite foods that I can still enjoy… but only in the privacy of my home, where I must remain isolated for a good twenty-four hours after consumption. If only others shared the same selfless concern for their fellow citizens.

Oh the unending betrayal. New items add themselves to the list often. The most recent is the most devastating. I can barely say the word without tears… Chocolate! Chocolate whom I have loved and cherished. Chocolate, my dearest friend, has now turned on me. ‘Et tu, Brute?’
I have decided there are things worth suffering for. I intend to stand valiantly and steadfastly against the assault. Armed only with Tums I will do battle.I will eat chocolate. It may kill me, but what a way to go!

I Leave You With Rachel

567,000 Miles Young

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T
his is an unusual love story that first aired in 2008, involving an 89-year-old woman and her beloved car, Chariot. The two had been together for decades and at that time, had traveled more than 540,000 miles across U.S. roads and highways. Rachel’s story quickly spread across the country and struck a chord with young and old alike.
Over the years, interest in the feisty octogenarian and her four-wheeled sidekick continued to grow and people wanted updates. Was Rachel still driving Chariot in her nineties? Yes, she certainly was and continued to do so until 2012 when it became clear that she was beginning to lose her sight and it was no longer safe to drive. Rachel was 93 and she and the 1964 Mercury Comet Caliente had together had racked up an impressive 567,000 miles. Sadly, Rachel passed away on May 11th, 2017. She was 98.

Watch the video that started it all.

Thank you for stopping by. I look forward to your visits.
Remind me, who are you again?

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